


Tremble so swiftly all of those days

by coffeejunkii



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pillow Talk, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: Phil and Clint share a quiet moment late at night after coming home from separate missions.





	Tremble so swiftly all of those days

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Cedar Lane" by First Aid Kit.

It’s after 3am when Phil finally makes it home. He picks a quiet path through the apartment and pauses in the door to the bedroom. Seeing Clint, on his side and asleep, eases the tightness in Phil’s shoulders. The bedside lamp is still on. Phil’s insides do a happy-guilty twist at the thought of Clint falling asleep while waiting for him.

Phil meant to be home hours ago—told Clint as much on the phone. But then Anderson caught Phil in the hallway with the news that the satellite footage was ready and could he take a quick look? Aware that a blindspot in coverage had nearly derailed the entire mission, Phil agreed even though Clint was already home after a different, equally grueling, op.

Clint shifts, and Phil can’t stand being even half a room away from him any longer. 

When Phil sits on the edge of the bed, Clint blinks his eyes open and grasps sleepily, urging Phil closer. It’s no hardship to give in. 

Clint noses into his hair. “Hmm, gunpowder and desperation.”

“Haven’t showered yet.” Phil tries to pull away, but Clint doesn’t let him.

“’s nice. You. ‘n home.”

It makes Phil smile. “Yeah.” He could fall asleep right here against Clint’s chest. “If I take the quickest shower known to man, will you let me up?”

Clint grumbles but eases his hold. 

Phil kisses his cheek and stands quickly before Clint can pull him back in. He does shower in record time even though the hot water feels amazing against his tired muscles and tries not to care about the towel fluffing up his hair in the most ungainly fashion. At least there is still a clean pair of pajama pants left.

When he slides into bed and right up against Clint’s side, a grunt stops him. “What’s wrong?” The initial AAR for Clint’s op didn’t mention any injuries.

“Nothing. Well, not nothing. But basically nothing.” Clint tugs up his T-shirt to reveal a sizable bruise over his left side. 

“That’s not nothing.”

“Medical cleared me. Yes, I did go. And yes, I did let them check me over. Didn’t even hurt my ribs. All clear.” The earnest look in Clint’s eyes matches the conviction in his voice.

Phil lets it go. Clint may downplay injuries, but he doesn’t lie to Phil. Moving to Clint’s other side, he settles down. Clint’s arm comes around him, fingers slowly drifting down Phil’s back. Phil presses his nose into Clint’s neck, breathing him in. 

He has wanted this moment for the past day. It still seems surreal that he can have this—has Clint in his life—and he’ll hang on to it for as long as he can.

There’s the shortest hitched breath from Clint that reminds Phil that Clint had a few shitty days as well. He squeezes Clint’s hip and runs his hand down his thigh and back up again. “Saw the alerts coming in as we were making our way out.” In mission mode, Phil took in the red flashes on his phone with forced distance, assessing whether his direct intervention was called for, never reading beyond the various alert codes.

“Civilians got in the way when we were in pursuit of the target.”

“But no casualties?” Phil doesn’t recall a black alert.

“No, but…” Clint lets out a frustrated noise. “We shouldn’t have been in that part of town, but we had to improvise, and it was crowded. Half a building came down because Jones got a little too trigger happy with some R&D prototype.”

Phil makes a mental note to follow up on this. The delay in Clint’s scheduled return makes much more sense now. “You stuck around for the clean-up.”

“Yeah, well, felt like the right thing to do.”

Of course it did. That’s who Clint is. Phil’s heart aches from the rapid cycle of feelings: worry, relief, pride. He’s good at shoving his emotions away while on the clock, but they bubble up now, and Phil lets them wash over him.

“What about you?” Clint asks.

“Fine, mostly. Lost our feed for about four hours. Baby agents freaked out, but valuable lessons, right? Got them to apply some of their wilderness survival skills, they succeeded, and felt better. Feed came back up, we got our intel, easy extraction.”

Clint hums in acknowledgment. “Bet they love you now.”

“I hope not.” 

“You’re very lovable.”

Phil snorts. “You’re biased.”

“There’s a squishy center under those impeccable suits, Agent Coulson.”

That gets to Phil more than it should. There’s a lot of buttoning up and keeping a level head in their job, which makes the time he gets with Clint, when he allows himself to be grumpy or tired or sick, all the more valuable. “Only for you.”

Clint goes quiet. He shuffles onto this side and keeps Phil close. Their noses bump.

“Too much?” Phil asks. He’s still figuring the whole sharing-feelings thing out.

Clint kisses him instead of answering. It’s sweet and longing, _welcome back_ and _I missed you all in one_. 

Phil tucks his head under Clint’s chin, warmth and even breaths and a strong heartbeat under his cheek. Clint’s hand settles onto Phil’s nape, anchoring him in place.

Clint yawns. “’m not getting out of this bed for a day.”

“How about two?”

“You got us another day?”

“Nothing urgent on the schedule.” Phil might have used his rank to make that happen. But rested agents are better agents.

“Hmm, pancakes for dinner,” Clint mumbles. “And bacon, ‘n coffee, mmhm…” 

A soft snore soon follows, and Phil hopes Clint’s dreams are filled with delicious breakfast foods. He lets his mind drift, mapping out the coming days, until sleep pulls him under as well.


End file.
